Mug Shot
by Archer in the Dark
Summary: Slade and Robin meet for coffee at the end of the world.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: So this is my very first fan fiction. Ever. In the whole entire history of my life. In other words, please go easy on me.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans. All rights go to someone who most definitely isn't me.

The boy's sitting exactly where Slade left him the last time, and the man can almost pretend that Robin simply never bothered to leave, that he has always sat there, face relaxed, hunched over the booth with his absurd cup of coffee (and it truly is absurd; who drinks coffee from a novelty mug when the world has ended? "Kiss the cook," honestly.), his eyes flickering in the shadows from the flames outside. And he secretly craves the idea, that Robin so looks forward to their next meeting that he simply never moves, that he just waits for Slade's return. The dream is not quite as silly as the mug, but, in Slade's opinion, it's a close race.

Robin looks up at Slade's approach. His blue eyes, previously dull, sparkle, and Slade's heart starts to thud a little faster.

"You're late," the boy says slyly, and pushes Slade's mug across the booth as the man gracefully slides into the other side.

Slade rolls his only eye. "Dear boy, it is impossible to be late at the end of the world." He pulls his mug to him and raises a brow. "And besides that, the coffee's still hot. I'd say I'm right on time."

Robin scoffs. "Whatever. The coffee's only hot because the whole world's on fire; kinda hard for things to get cold."

"Touché," Slade says with a smirk and takes a sip of the warm drink. Back when the world didn't burn, Robin's pale skin would be blossoming with purples, blacks, and sickly yellows for the casual tone and nonchalant attitude. But, Slade muses, the world's not the only thing that's changed.

Robin drinks deep from his mug and hums in contentment. "It was a bitch to get the coffee maker to work today," he says airily, making small talk.

"It's a bitch to make it work every day."

Robin waves a hand. "Technicalities. You know what I mean. It was way harder than usual."

Slade sighs. "That coffee maker should have died a long time ago. I still have no idea why it even works in the first place." When Trigon had taken over, electricity had lasted a few days, and then slowly started to sputter out all over the city, until only small electronics worked anymore. As for the bigger things... Well, not including Raven, Cyborg had been the first to go. In any case, it had been almost two months since the last small electronic had worked for Slade. Somehow Robin had managed to coax the small coffee maker to live just a little bit longer each day, but Slade suspected they would be mourning it soon enough, just like everything else. He had, at one point, snidely pointed out that Robin's electronic talents might be better spent on something other than a coffee maker. The boy had glared at him, told him that coffee kept him sane and he needed his "damn sanity" to save the world, and to shut his trap. He hadn't brought it up again.

"Come on, Slade," Robin mocks, drawing the man from his contemplations. "You know why it still works."

Slade quirks a brow. "Do I?"

The boy grins and raises his hands, wiggling the fingers. "Magic touch. I've been hiding it from you this whole time, but I actually have superpowers."

Slade chuckles heartily. "What, to bring useless machinery back to life?"

"Damn straight," Robin says with a grin. "They didn't call me 'boy wonder' for nothing."

Slade rolls his eye. "You truly are a wonder, Robin. Really, it's awe inspiring what you do."

"I'll pretend that wasn't dripping with sarcasm and was actually genuine praise of my wonderfulness," Robin says with a sniff. Slade shakes his head with a smile and takes a sip. It's horrible, bitter coffee, but somehow it's come to taste delicious over time. He closes his eye and savors it for a moment. When he glances up, Robin is scrutinizing him.

"So what were you doing?" the boy asks politely.

"Hm?" Slade hums, feigning ignorance.

"You know. What held you up?"

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. And I told you, I wasn't late."

Robin's face, so carefree only moments ago, becomes drawn and tired. "You weren't looking again, were you?" The boy already knows the answer, and so Slade doesn't bother to reply. Sipping, he believes, is sufficient enough.

A sigh escapes Robin's lips, and he drags a hand through his spiky hair. Slade surreptitiously watches the movement with a gleam in his eye. Everything about his little bird fascinates him. What had been interest before is now obsession. Robin is Slade's world, and the man doesn't intend for his new world to end like the old one did.

Robin raises his gaze, and the blue orbs are filled with a sort of pained reluctance as he asks the question he always asks when the topic arises. "Did...Did you find anyone?"

Slade lazily sips from his mug, and feigns contemplation. He relishes in Robin's agony as he draws the answer out. "Nothing but stone," he says finally, and Robin's face crumples in disappointment. "Of course, the search could be more successful if you were to join me, dear boy," Slade purrs, leaning across the table and smiling coyly. "It would go so much fas-"

"No," Robin growls, rudely interrupting Slade, which causes a slight prickle of irritation but he brushes it off. "You know why I can't do that."

Slade waves his hand and leans back, the smirk still firmly in place. "A silly notion, Robin," he drawls, and he is certainly not covering a slight sting from Robin's rejection, because he knows it works better with his plans anyways. Not that plans couldn't be changed, of course, if Robin would just give in already. "If you were truly that afraid of my, ah, corrupting influence, you wouldn't be meeting me for coffee every day." His smile turns into a leer. "You wouldn't have _removed your mask_, dear boy."

At this Robin winces and raises a hand subconsciously to brush his face, to touch naked eyes. Slade watches raw emotion cross those blue orbs with delight. The day Robin had removed his mask for him, had solemnly intoned that it held no meaning anymore... That had been one of the finest moments of his life. And when Slade had removed his own mask, fear coursing through him that Robin would leave once the boy knew his face, that somehow all of Robin's overtures of friendship had been an act for this moment, he had almost died from sheer relief when the boy merely tilted his head and shrugged. "White hair. Weird," was all the boy had said before proclaiming that he was dying for a croissant.

"That wasn't because I trusted you," Robin says softly, snapping Slade out of his reverie. "It was just because... There wasn't a point anymore, to have a secret identity. You're not the villain anymore, and I'm not the hero. There was no reason to hide."

"If you truly believe that, then why are you limiting our interactions to an hour each day?" Slade says with a scowl, allowing some of his impatience to show through. "We _need_ each other, Robin."

"The idea that I should never join you is all I have left," Robin whispers miserably. "The titans..."

"Are dead, you sentimental fool," Slade snaps, momentarily ignoring the kernel of joy he feels at those words for the present conversation. "They don't care about you fraternizing with the enemy because they don't exist anymore."

"Their memories do! And you... If I let you in, I won't ever be able to go back, I _know_ that. It would make your offer... Tempting. More tempting than it already is. For God's sake, Slade, if you would just tell me what you know about Trigon-"

"Not without a price, boy," Slade growls. His fists are clenched tightly on the table. "I won't let you leave me the second you know how to defeat him."

Robin's eyes alight with rage. He slams his fists down on the table and furiously stands up. "Dammit, Slade, I can't believe how selfish you're being!"

Slade laughs coldly. "_I'm_ being selfish? Says the boy too proud to give up something so simple for the world to return to normalcy."

"Simple?" Robin chokes out in disbelief. "You want me to sign my life away, Slade! How is that simple?"

Slade stares at him long and hard, until Robin looks away shamefully. "I would imagine that the issue would seem simple to those frozen in stone, Robin."

The boy shakes his head and slowly sits down again. "I can find out how to defeat him on my own."

"We've been here five months, and in all that time you haven't found anything that can definitively destroy him," Slade says scathingly. He waves a hand when Robin opens his mouth to protest. "Oh, I know that you understand his blind spots, the weak points on his body... But you haven't a clue as to how you can save the entire world, Robin. You have nothing but a few hits, not a killing blow. I _have_ that killing blow. And I'm willing to reveal it to you Robin... All I'm asking for is a little insurance."

Robin shakes his head numbly. "I can't do it. I know it's the right thing to do, but I just can't."

Slade narrows his eye and smirks. "Funny how quickly the hero complex disappeared once the world was set on fire. What happened, Robin?"

"I couldn't save them," he says sadly. "And once that happened, and once everyone I ever cared about was dead... Saving the world didn't matter as much as it used to, I guess." He sighs and slumps wearily over the table, meeting Slade's eye with reluctance. "And honestly, Slade, I was really tired of fighting. Really tired." He lets out a short bark of laughter. "Sometimes I feel like I don't even want to kill Trigon, that I don't want the world to come back, because then it would all start up again. And it wouldn't matter if I were a hero or your apprentice, I would still be fighting all the damn time. I don't think I want that anymore."

Slade stares at him for a time, drinking in the look of sheer unhappiness on Robin's pinched face. Robin's unhappiness is almost as delectable as his joy, he muses. He supposes this is because it doesn't really matter what Robin is feeling, just as long as the boy is with him. But as the silence drags on, he begins to wish for Robin's smile, which, as he's learned, is much easier to draw out than he would have imagined. It's like opening a present every time, a constant delight. So he smiles and shakes his head, drawing the boy's attention to him. "And here I thought you just hated me," he says with a laugh. "Honestly Robin, you act like it's the end of the world or something."

The boy snorts into his coffee, and Slade is relieved to see some of the despair leave his face. "Ha ha, very funny. You should have been a comedian."

"Dear boy, with some of the terrible quips you made in battle, _you_ should have been the comedian," Slade retorts with a grin.

"Hey! My quips were clever, thank you very much!" Robin's voice is filled with indignation, but his gloom is all but forgotten. Slade feels like he's ten feet taller because of it.

Slade sniggers and raises his voice as high as it can go in an unflattering imitation of the little bird. "'Actually, we just went into overtime!' My god, that one was the _worst_."

"It was clever!" Robin says through breathless laughs. "Because we were fighting over the chronoton detonator, and it would've stopped time, and so we went into _overtime_!"

Slade groans. "Please, please stop. Really, I feel embarrassed _for_ you."

Robin tilts his head back and laughs, and for a moment the bleakness of the little abandoned diner, the fires outside, the smoke, the horrible, ugly crows, are all pushed back by Robin's smile, his joy. Slade watches Robin's bared neck, his body quivering with laughter, his smile smacked silly all over his face, with hunger. He imagines what it would feel like to possess all of the little parts of Robin, to be constantly in control of the boy's happiness, to have the power to reach out and skim his fingers over that pale neck without the boy drawing back in fear...

Really, he's not asking for much.

After a time Robin's chuckles fade away into silence, and he watches Slade with a small smile and a look of contemplation. Slade raises a brow.

"What?"

Robin just shakes his head, still smiling. "It's just so weird."

Slade takes a sip of his now lukewarm coffee, still with an expectant look on his face. Robin sighs. "Well, five months ago we were trying to kill each other, and now we're drinking coffee together. It's surreal."

Slade nods slowly. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"I mean, honestly," Robin continues earnestly, gripping his coffee mug and leaning forward. "I never would have imagined you were actually capable of regular conversation."

"Thanks," Slade says wryly. "Just what I've always longed to hear."

"I'm serious, Slade," the boy says, eyes intense. "I mean, really, did you have any friends? Like, at all? In any capacity? Because you know I was obsessed with you -" And Slade's heart skips a beat at that - "And not once did I ever come across anyone in contact with you who was more than a supplier or a buyer. No friends, no family." Robin hesitates for a moment. "Were... Were you always completely alone?"

Grant. Joseph. Rose. Adeline. Wintergreen.

He sighs heavily and finishes off the last of the coffee. "Yes, Robin. I think I always was."

* * *

The view from the tops of buildings is always a little depressing. The absolute destruction of Jump City is far more apparent than when one is on the ground.

Slade eyes the city streets below. He isn't too far off the ground, but it's high enough that he has a better view for what he's looking for. He's sure he won't see Robin; the boy will be entertained for hours poring over ancient scrolls, trying to find some way to reverse Trigon's curse. It's all in vain, though.

Slade made sure of that ages ago.

He sighs and draws a hand down his face, weary from all the waiting. He had always known Robin wouldn't just give in, but five months of living in this hell hole is beginning to wear on him, and to be frank he had expected Robin to whine for a day or two and then accept. Things hadn't quite gone his way though.

It was a good deal he had offered Robin: the secret to restoring the world in exchange for Robin's absolute servitude to him, and this time he expected the boy to sign a binding agreement in blood. Shooting fireballs wasn't the only thing he had picked up from his time with Trigon; there were ways to permanently ensure Robin's loyalty to him through the magics of Raven and Trigon's realm, and he had made sure to acquire that power. Should Robin agree to his little deal, the boy would be his forever, with no worries of double crossing.

But Robin hadn't agreed. The self-sacrificing hero that Slade had once known was gone, replaced by a boy who simply wanted a normal life, and was desperately trying to achieve it. Slade had seen it in Robin's eyes more than once over the last several months: selfishness. Robin certainly cared for the people of his city, and for his friends, but something had changed. He was tired now, and cynical; he had made it clear that a life bound to Slade was the absolute last thing he wanted, even if it meant the world burned. And so his little bird searched and searched, not to save a city he had failed but to save himself, as a last resort to escape a life of servitude.

At first Slade had been furious. He had finally gotten his bird exactly where he wanted him, and the kid had to go and lose his hero complex. As it had turned out though, somehow the whole thing had turned around in his favor again. It had started with coffee and an overture of friendship, or at least an alliance, from Robin himself. The boy was a social creature; he was desperate to be with people, to talk, even if that meant socializing with his enemy.

And so Slade sits on the building, and looks for just that: people.

Robin is completely unaware, but a few people did survive the end of the world. Just a small handful, people who were blessed by some protective power, whether or not they knew it.

And yes, there's one now, a young man, overweight, unremarkable, exhausted and close to death. Slade watches silently from the rooftop, head tilted in contemplation.

Robin is indeed a social creature. Were he to find any survivors, he would want to take care of them, keep them close. And Slade simply can't have that.

He silently drops from the building and rolls when he hits the ground; there's barely even a rustle. Brushing some dirt off his shoulder, he strides toward his prey. He coughs once.

The man stops and turns. His eyes widen when he sees Slade. "Oh - Oh my god. Thank god, man, I thought I was the only one out here! You gotta help me, please man, I just -"

"You just can't be on your own any more," Slade interrupts softly. Tears gather in the young man's eyes, and he falls to his knees, trembling.

"Thank god," he sobs. "Oh, thank god, I thought I was the only one left."

"You're not," Slade says, voice still low. "There's another boy, actually, here in the city. He's just a little younger than you. And I'm sure you two would get along quite well."

The young man sobs even harder. Slade silently pulls out his knife.

"I'm sorry," Slade says; his voice is emotionless. "But I just can't allow that to happen."

The young man looks up in confusion, and Slade slits his throat.

It takes very little time to hide the evidence; with so many fires burning in the city, it doesn't take long to dispose of the body, and his knife just needs a quick cleaning. Before he walks away, he stares long and hard into the flames.

He won't be alone again, no matter what it takes. Robin will give in eventually, he's sure of it. The boy is growing fond of him, desperately attaching himself to the only other human being around. It won't be long before he sees an apprenticeship as a positive outcome. And in the meantime, Slade can wait.

He can wait.


	2. Chapter 2

To be honest, I had no plans to continue this story. But the positive reviews I got really made me happy (like, "squealing and dancing with excitement over my first reviews ever" kind of happy), and a few of those reviews expressed interest in a second chapter. So I got inspired. I guess I could continue it even further after this chapter, but again, no plans. I can't see it going any farther than three chapters though.

And thank you, thank you, thank you to people who reviewed! You guys really made my day, so here's my gift to you! It's a tad depressing, but hey, it's the end of the world, so what would you expect?

* * *

The room is dank and cool, a rarity in this world. No light from the fires outside flicker in; there is no natural light here, no windows. Torches snap furiously against the darkness and throw their angry light onto a mess of a room. Papers are strewn everywhere, books thrown carelessly on the floor. There's also wrappers, and plastic bags; Doritos and Cheetos lay in shambles, and they coat the papers and books with a dusty orange. And above the wreck of the floor is a desk, and a chair, and in the chair sits a boy. His outfit is tattered and worn, and odd for the setting. The red, yellow, and green of his costume seem out of place down here in the dark. He's hunched over the desk, his fingers digging hard into the limp spikes of his hair.

His breath is ragged. Tears are streaming down his face. They fall steady and sure from his chin to a thin piece of parchment on the desk; the ink, so secure before, seems to falter, and words begin to bleed.

Robin shudders and blinks furiously, rubbing at his eyes and face. His blue orbs flick down to the paper, and he scoffs. "The last one," he mutters scathingly. "The very last scroll. And what -" His breath comes out in a gasp, and then he's standing, slowly, with quiet rage. "And what did it get me?" He hisses.

His fingers clench into fists, and suddenly he's roaring with hatred. "What did it get me?!" Snarling, he flips the desk over. The crash echoes horribly in the room, but Robin is too far gone to notice, too lost in rage. "A year! A whole year of reading and researching, and there's just nothing! Just - Just nothing!" The chair goes next. He flings books from shelves, rips his notes into shreds, and when there's nothing left Robin screams. He tilts his head back and roars in agony for long minutes, until he can take no more and collapses to his knees. The screams turn to violent sobs, and he shakes there in what feels like his tomb with only shredded books and firelight for company.

"Not like this," he sobs. "Please, god, not like this. I can't sign my life away again, I can't, not to him. Please, not to him. I tried, I tried so hard. I just want a normal life, and... God, just why, why, why?! I've lost everything!" He trembles, and his eyes turn glassy with a sort of realization. "God, I've... I've lost everything. Everything."

He stares blankly at the stone floor. The darkness is pressing down on him, suffocating him, and he's drowning in it, drowning in it, god there's just no air...

Robin shudders and blinks furiously, rubbing at his eyes and face.

He takes a deep breath. Exhales. Breathes in again. The darkness is still everywhere.

In the tomb of the library, Robin kneels in the shredded pieces of his last hope, and screams.

* * *

He's not worried. Worrying gets nothing done, and really, there's absolutely nothing to worry about.

Slade looks out the broken glass of the diner window for the fifth time in only a few minutes. It's hard to tell time in Trigon's world since clocks don't work and the sun isn't ever visible, but he and Robin have learned patterns of the day, and they've managed to create a sort of cycle. Rather than a 24-hour pattern for the day, Trigon's realm works in weather shifts of varying length. For instance, when Slade and Robin wake up, the day always starts with a lightning storm. They've guessed that the storm lasts about an hour, hour and a half. Then there's a period of calm for about three hours. After that comes a thick darkness that shrouds the city for about four hours, and so on. At first it had baffled them, the strict weather patterns of the end of the world. But eventually, they took it for what it was: a gift. It gave them ways to schedule meetings, such as "meet for coffee at the end of the daily lightning storm." Of course, the coffee maker died months ago, so now they just meet to talk. But that's beside the point.

Robin has never, ever been late. And Slade has been waiting now for quite awhile.

But really, he isn't worried.

He purses his lips and looks out the window once more to check for the sixth time that he came during the right time of the day. Sighing, he cards his fingers through his white hair, which has grown greasy with time. He grimaces and puts his hand back on the table, drumming his fingers impatiently.

"I'm not worried," he mutters aloud, and then instantly feels ridiculous. Deathstroke the Terminator, reduced to talking to himself. He sighs again and drums his fingers a little harder.

He waits for a long time before Robin comes. The boy walks slowly through the swinging doors, which creak and squeal. Slade stands up quickly and strides over to the boy, his brow furrowed in annoyance. He opens his mouth to chastise Robin, but the words die in his throat.

"... Robin?" He says softly.

The boy - his boy - looks more lost than Slade has ever seen him. Tears have made clean tracks down the dirt on his face. And his eyes are dull; Slade has never seen Robin's eyes so empty before.

He hesitates before gently bringing his hands to the boy's shoulders; Robin's entire body is trembling. "Robin?" he repeats, still in a quiet voice. The boy's gaze slowly turns to him. His lips part, and he takes a trembling breath.

"I'm done," the boy whispers.

Slade furrows his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Just that: I'm done. No more, Slade. No more digging through trash to find a meal. No more sleeping in the dirt. No more -" And here the boy chokes for a moment - "No more trying to - to save myself. I quit. I give in. I want Trigon dead and the world back to normal." Robin shrugs out of Slade's grip and falls to his knees, head bowed. The next words come out through gritted teeth. "I - I agree to an apprenticeship... Master."

An awful silence reigns over the diner. Neither of them move.

Slade, for the first time in a very long time, finds himself at a complete loss for words. His stomach roils, and he brings up one hand to rub his mouth. There is something very wrong with Robin kneeling before him. He remembers the times they've laughed together over the past year, kept each other sane. In time he came to see Robin not just as his rightful apprentice but also as a... Friend? Son?

He doesn't know what to say, but this... This is not how he wanted his apprentice. Not like this.

Not like this.

"Get up," he says softly, and it takes effort to keep his voice from quivering. "Robin, please stand up."

The boy slowly raises his head and meets Slade's eye. "This is what you wanted, Slade," the boy says bitterly. "This is what you've always wanted. And this is our deal. My loyalty for your secret. Don't you dare back out on this, because this - this is because of you. It's all been because of you. I'm keeping up my end, so don't you dare back out on me."

Slade is feeling very, very sick now. "Robin, for the love of god, just stand up. Please, I just -" he reaches down to lift the boy by his arm, and Robin furiously recoils away, staggering to his feet.

"This has all been your fault!" The boy roars. "All of it! If you hadn't sided with Trigon, Raven wouldn't have ended the world, and if you could've just given me the goddamn secret to killing him instead of holding your fucking 'insurance' over my head I could've had a normal life!" Robin throws a punch, which Slade easily dodges. The man swallows the huge lump that's growing in his throat.

"Robin, please-"

"No!" Robin snarls, and presses forward with another attack. "No! You made me this way, you made me hate! I was good before you, I was good! I had friends, I was loved, and then you came and ruined me, you made me just like you!" He begins to move faster, swing harder; Slade blocks every punch, and Robin goes mad with hatred.

"Die!" He screams. "Just die! Just bleed, for once, just feel pain the way I feel pain!" One punch makes it by Slade's defense; fist connects to jaw with a crack. "You've never known!" The boy rants, and his eyes are wild as more and more of his punches hit their mark. Slade falls to the ground, and Robin kneels above him. Punches rain down between angry words. "You've never - known - what it's like - to lose - everything!"

The punches begin to weaken. Slade cracks his eye open and peers at the boy sitting above him. Robin's fists are clenched; his knuckles are bruised. His entire body is trembling and tears are streaming down his face. He half-heartedly beats at Slade's chest, and his body heaves. "You've never known," the boy sobs. "I've lost m-my parents, and I loved them so much, and then Batman... He m-made me leave, we had a fight and I had to go, and he was like a father to me. We never - we never forgave each other. And the titans-" The boy's voice fails him. He swallows and continues. "M-my only friends. And I failed them, I lost them all. And now my freedom. I've lost that too." Robin's voice drops to a whisper. "My whole life, it's all slipped through my fingers, just like sand. You don't know - you can't know - what that's like. I've never been in control of my own life, ever. Every time I think I have it... Every time I think something is going well, is mine, it just slips away. I can't take that anymore. I'm done, Slade. I'm just done."

Slade swallows heavily and slowly sits up with a wince. Robin shakily moves off of him until they're sitting side by side on the floor. For a time, neither says anything.

And then Slade speaks, because now he knows exactly what to say, knows the words that will make Robin never leave him, will bind the boy to him forever, without the use of any ancient contracts or magics. He licks his lips.

"Robin," he starts, and allows his voice to tremble. "You haven't lost me."

He glances over at the boy. Robin continues to stare straight ahead, but the tight line of his mouth quivers, and his eyes are raw with emotion. Slade hesitatingly places a hand on Robin's shoulder. "You haven't lost me," he repeats quietly.

A sob escapes the boys lips. He brings his knees to his chest and hugs them tight. His head drops, and he cries. Slade wraps his arms around the boy and holds him as Robin unravels. And finally, after a year of waiting, Robin breaks.

Slade rocks him back and forth in his arms. He wants to feel some sort of satisfaction; all of the hidden murders, the coffee, the waiting, has finally amounted to this. Yet all Slade can think of is a moment three or four months ago when Robin couldn't get the coffee maker to work anymore. The boy had fiddled with it for ages before Slade had finally put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Let it go, Robin," he'd said sympathetically. "We knew we'd have to lose it eventually."

The boy had sighed heavily. "I really thought it would last."

Slade had chuckled. "Everything ends, Robin. I thought you'd have learned that by now."

The boy hadn't reacted; his face had been solemn and tired. "Yeah," Robin had finally replied softly. "Yeah, you'd think I would've figured that out by now." The boy had shrugged out of his grip and moodily walked out of the diner. He had paused at the door though, as if he were tempted to go back and try fixing it one more time. The flames had blurred his silhouette as he stood absolutely still. Something about it had made Slade's heart ache, though he couldn't understand what exactly it was.

Before he'd had time to puzzle through it the moment had ended. Robin had shook his head and strode quickly out the door. Slade had given one last glance to the dingy coffee maker before following after his little bird.

Just one more loss in a world full of losses.


End file.
